


Your Sickening Desire (The Subject of your Dreams)

by InMediasRes



Series: String of Fate [3]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - No Beast (The Magicians), Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Quentin Coldwater, Deepthroating, Eliot Waugh's Canonically Huge Dick, If You Squint - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Top Eliot Waugh, don't be mistaken this is very tender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28490343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InMediasRes/pseuds/InMediasRes
Summary: The night of Quentin's showcase after-party.Or, the one in which Eliot and Quentin finally get together, and the morning after.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Series: String of Fate [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076294
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	Your Sickening Desire (The Subject of your Dreams)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year everyone! All the best for the coming year <3
> 
> I did want to have an actual New Year piece written for today, but this piece alone took a week to write, and turned out much longer than I had anticipated. Also, this was my first attempt at writing smut, so I'm aware some of the flow may be a bit stilted, and it's probably not as explicit as others, but here we are (I'm also kinda proud that my first smut piece is Queliot lol I always thought it would be Harry Potter related).
> 
> Title taken from BITE by Troye Sivan
> 
> Enjoy :)

* * *

Eliot couldn’t believe when Quentin agreed to taking him to bed. As soon as they were in Eliot’s room, he pushed Quentin up against his door, unable to wait anymore for a thorough kiss.

“Fuck, El… Gotta –” Feeling Quentin’s searching fingers looking to unbutton his shirt, Eliot grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head. He has to swallow down a growl as he stares down at Quentin’s reaction, his eyes dark and wide as he gazes up at Eliot leaning over him.

“Shit Q, you’re –” he leans down to kiss his lips, “– so _fucking_ gorgeous –” another kiss, “– need you –”

“– You have me,” Quentin cuts in, gasping as he strains to break Eliot’s hold on his wrists. _Fuck, he’s absolutely beautiful_. “Please El, you’ve had me since the first fucking meeting.”

Eliot is unable to stop the groan that leaves his mouth at Quentin’s admission, letting go of his wrists so he could undress the man before him. _God, how’d he get so lucky?_ He can’t stop drinking in the sight of Quentin, confident in all his nudity; his wiry muscles that he hides under all his baggy clothing, his hair tucked behind one ear, and _Jesus, his cock_. It wasn’t as long as Eliot’s, but it was thick, and God, did it make his mouth water. It was beautiful. _Quentin_ was beautiful.

They fall into each other on the bed, Eliot rolling on top to cage Quentin in without breaking the kiss. He skims a hand up his side, across his ribs then up to play with a nipple, lightly pinching and rolling. Quentin thumps his head against the pillow, panting, as Eliot trails kisses down his neck and to his other nipple, gently biting then licking, pulling on it with his teeth. Quentin cants his hips up, seeking friction, making Eliot smile against his skin.

“ _Eliot_. El. I need – I want –”

Eliot lifts his head to catch Quentin’s eyes when he lets out a frustrated groan. “What do you need, baby?” He prompts quietly, still playing with his nipple, rubbing it with his thumb.

“Can I… I want to suck you off.”

Eliot’s breath catches in his throat and his dick twitches. _Holy shit._ How could someone be so s _exy_ and yet so shy about what they want at the same time? However Quentin did it, Eliot was _very_ into it.

“ _God_ , yes, Q,” his voice is rough with his arousal as he shuffles on the bed to prop up the pillows so he could lean back, legs spread.

A slow smile spreads across Quentin’s face as he rolls over and shimmies down so he’s eye to eye with Eliot’s cock. “So um. I’m not exactly experienced with – with guys and… Well, just a couple of handjobs and. There was that one blowjob. Um. A quickie once? So yeah…”

_Jesus_.

“Q. I don’t care. _I don’t care_. Fuck, that’s the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me. I don’t care if it’s good or not. It’s good, because it’s _you_ doing it.” Eliot cups Quentin’s cheek with a hand, thumb brushing across his cheekbone. “I don’t care how experienced you are, as long as _I’m doing it with you_. Okay?”

He watches carefully as he sees Quentin’s eyes fill with tears before he blinks them away (he pushes the rising tide of affection in his chest and focuses on the _here_ and _now_ ). He continues to watch as Quentin takes a breath before lowering his head and giving an experimental lick to the head of his cock, and he _really_ has to hold back from his hips jumping up, not wanting to overwhelm Quentin or pressure him into taking more than he could.

He draws out a _fuck_ as Quentin starts exploring, taking in the head and then, slowly, trying to take in the rest of him before pulling back then swallowing him down again. Eliot reaches out a hand, entangling it into Quentin’s hair, wanting to touch, while his other hand scrunched the duvet in a fist.

“Jesus – _fuck_ – Q –”

Quentin’s eyes flutter up to meet his – _so fucking hot_ – before he pulls off, sitting up slightly to lick a wet stripe across his palm before taking Eliot’s cock in his hand, giving it a quick stroke. He smirks as Eliot’s hips buck before slowly lowering his mouth back down onto his length, his hand stroking what he can’t take in.

“ _How_ are you real – _Jesus_ – Q. Q, stop,” Eliot gently tugs on Quentin’s hair to get his attention, cursing softly when Quentin lets out a whimper. “Q, I’m gonna blow if you keep going. _Fuck_.”

He pulls Quentin up for a heated kiss, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape and tugging – _gently_ – smirking when a moan fights its way out of Quentin’s throat. “Mm… You like that?” he hums, mouthing at the side of Quentin’s neck, lightly dragging his teeth across his pulse point, nipping lightly then licking over it, over and over.

“Shit, _El._ El, need you – inside – want you inside me. Needed it like, _yesterday_.” Quentin pleads, rolling his hips against Eliot’s.

_Fuck, that was hot_. “I got you, baby,” Eliot rolls them over, slotting himself in between Quentin’s spread legs, and reaches blindly at his nightstand. He pulls open a drawer and feels around for a condom and his bottle of lube, letting out a small noise of triumph when he finds them. He smiles down at Quentin as he flicks the cap of the bottle open, leaving the condom on top of the nightstand.

Eliot leans in for a kiss, Quentin meeting him halfway, as he hitches one of Quentin’s legs onto his hip to get better access. He deftly pours lube onto his hand, rubbing it to warm it up, before reaching down. Eliot rubs his nose across Quentin’s cheek, back and forth, soothingly as he slowly enters a finger. Quentin squirms a little, trying to get used to the feeling.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, El. Just… Go slow? Been a while.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Eliot kisses Quentin’s cheek before beginning to move his finger; out – a pause – then in.

It didn’t take long until Quentin was asking for another, and then a third. Eliot checked in each time, wanting this to be perfect for him. Though it wasn’t Quentin’s first time, he couldn’t be sure when his _last_ time had been, and _God_ he was tight. He didn’t want to hurt Quentin (at least, not in a way Quentin didn’t ask for and _Jesus_ stop that train of thought _right now Waugh, before you blow your load_ ). Eliot’s first time had been less than ideal, and he very much wanted to treat this like it was Quentin’s first. He deserved someone who cared about him, about his pleasure, and Eliot was going to be that person (even when he was shaking with the effort of holding back, _even then_ ).

“El, c’mon, I’m ready,” Quentin pants. Eliot kisses his cheek before pulling back a bit so he could see his face. “If you don’t dick me _right now_ –”

Eliot laughs, cutting Quentin’s bitchy comment off, eyes bright. _God, he was a complete goner._ “Message received,” he replies, smiling.

He reaches over for the condom, tearing it open, before sitting back on his knees to slip it on, giving his cock a few strokes before he applied a generous amount of lube. His smile melts into a smirk as he watches Quentin’s eyes darken.

“Like what you see?” He teases, crawling forward so he’s leaning over Quentin, hands on either side of his head.

“Just – fuck – you’re _big_.”

Eliot winks, lining himself up. “You sure you’re ready, darling?”

“ _God yes_ ,” is the immediate reply.

Quentin wraps his legs around Eliot’s waist as Eliot slowly, oh-so-carefully pushes in, both panting at the feeling of _giving_ and _receiving_. Eliot hunches over Quentin, panting against his neck, as he strains to just not fully sheathe himself inside the tight, w _onderful_ heat that is Quentin. He can feel Quentin clenching around him, trying to adjust to his size, as he lets out a whimper.

“ _Fucking_ Jesus on a bike,” Quentin curses, legs tightening around Eliot’s waist for a split second before relaxing.

“Okay?” Eliot manages to grit out with effort, a hand finding Quentin’s so he could lace them together.

“Yeah,” Quentin breathes, turning his head to kiss Eliot’s curls; the only part of him he could reach, such as he was buried in Quentin’s neck. “I can… I can take it.”

Eliot can only moan, tightening his hold on Quentin’s hand, who squeezes back. _So fucking hot_ , Eliot was sure he was going to combust the next time Quentin spoke. God, he probably didn’t even mean to be sexy or anything, it was just Q being Q. Taking a moment to calm himself down so he wouldn’t blow in the next minute, Eliot slowly pushes the rest of the way in as he takes to kissing and sucking Quentin’s neck as a distraction.

“Fuck, Q. You’re so tight,” he pants out.

Quentin lets out a strangled moan, throwing his free arm around Eliot’s neck as he tosses his head back on the pillow. “Feel so full, El…”

“Shh, I know. I know, baby,” Eliot keeps his hips still as he moves to tenderly kiss Quentin. “Let me know when you’re ready, yeah?”

“Been ready for you since the first fucking _day_ El, now _move_.”

“Fucking _brat_ ,” Eliot huffs out a laugh in Quentin’s ear.

“You like it.”

“Mm… That I do, baby.”

Eliot smirks as he pulls out part way and then thrusts back in, effectively cutting off whatever snarky remark Quentin was about to make. It took everything in Eliot to not just start slamming in immediately – Quentin deserved more than a quick fuck; he was more than a warm body to sleep with, and Eliot was going to show him, worship him in the way he deserves.

One hand still holding Quentin’s, Eliot reaches down with his other and wraps it around Quentin’s cock, slippery with precum. He kisses Quentin, swallowing down his gasps, as he begins to stroke in tandem to his thrusts. A whine builds in Quentin’s throat, high and needy, and his legs tighten around Eliot’s waist, urging him to speed up. Eliot is only too happy to comply, angling his hips more to hit that spot that makes Quentin feel as if he’s drowning in pleasure; Quentin meets him thrust for thrust, both moving together to chase their pleasure.

“El. El, I’m close – fuck – _do that again_ – yeah, right there, _fuck_ –”

“Q. Q, baby, yeah, _fuck_ , you’re so good. So hot, you like that?”

Eliot kisses Quentin fervently as he starts speeding up; he could do this for the rest of his days, learning Q’s body, mapping out all his weak spots, the places that make him melt. Holding hands, the kisses, the whole lot. Quentin fit into his arms like no one else had – it felt natural, so right, to have him, to hold him. To be with him. _And God, sex had never felt so good. Jesus_. Quentin was perfect in all the ways Eliot was not, but that w _orked_. They work.

“Baby, you gonna come? Come on,” Eliot’s hand on Quentin’s cock speeds up, pushing them both to that crest together (Eliot was _such a sucker_ – no pun intended – for getting off on getting his partners off). “Come for me. Wanna see you.”

Quentin whines as he whites out, clenching around Eliot who groans and releases into the condom, giving little thrusts to ride it out. They both lay there for a few moments, shaking in the intensity of their orgasms, before Quentin shifts to pull Eliot down for a kiss.

“ _Jesus_ El, that was –”

“– Good?”

“– _Perfect_ ,” Quentin corrects, sighing. “ _You_ were perfect.”

Eliot hides a pleased smile in Quentin’s neck, licking over the lovebite he had left there earlier. There’s another few moments of silence before Quentin breaks it again.

“Okay, no offense, but like, can you get your ridiculously large dick out my ass now. I’m sensitive as fuck.”

“Brat,” Eliot chuckles but pushes himself up with shaky arms anyway, slowly pulling out. Quentin twitches around him and Eliot has to bite back a moan, his dick making a valiant effort to get hard again. He pulls the condom off, tying it at the end and throwing it into the bin, before flopping back down next to Quentin.

They both turn to lay on their sides, sharing tender kisses, as they bask in the afterglow. Eliot had never felt so warm with affection before, not even with his few exes. He brushes a strand of hair away from Quentin’s face, tucking it fondly behind his ear. Without them noticing, they had gravitated closer until Quentin had tucked his head under Eliot’s chin, hand on his chest as their legs tangled. Eliot pulls the duvet over them, listening to their breaths evening out, allowing it to lull him into serenity.

* * *

Eliot wakes up before Quentin whom had, through the night, moved to sleep on his back. Eliot smiles softly at the peacefulness on Quentin’s face; there was no sign of his usual anxiety or worry. He lays an arm across Quentin’s waist and shuffles a bit closer to kiss his shoulder, careful not to wake him. He closes his eyes, content to doze until Quentin wakes.

It’s probably about an hour later that Quentin begins to stir, letting out a rough groan that has Eliot twitching under the duvet. Ignoring his dick (he should get a medal for that – no, _really_ ) he begins to doze off again in the quiet, until he feels a sharp movement from Quentin. He can s _ense_ the anxiety rolling off him in waves, and he internally sighs.

“Stop thinking so loud,” he mumbles, eyes still closed, as a grin curves his lips.

“I –” There’s a small squeak in his voice, and Quentin clears his throat. “I’m not thinking. Nope. Not at all.”

Amusement fills him as Eliot slowly opens his eyes, breath catching as he looks at Quentin. His hair is slightly dishevelled from sleep, and his eyes still have that half-glazed look in them from only having just woken up. He watches as Quentin swallows nervously before rolling onto his side to face. He’s thrilled to note Quentin doesn’t dislodge his arm from his waist – that could only be a good thing, he wasn’t shying away.

“What are… Are we… What are we?” Quentin ventures to ask, making Eliot frown when he drops his gaze.

Eliot can see Quentin’s anxiety and insecurities simmering under the surface, and his heart ached at the thought that Quentin couldn’t see himself the way Eliot saw him. _He is beautiful, and everything Eliot ever wanted_. With that thought in mind, he moves his hand, seeing the devastation flit across Quentin’s face, before he’s cupping his cheek and tilting him up for a gentle kiss, running his thumb back and forth. He smiles at Quentin’s dazed look when he breaks the kiss.

“Breathe, Q,” he says, laughing quietly when Quentin inhales, watches as a red flush creeps up into his face. He continues to stroke his cheek with his thumb, unable to stop himself from making contact, wanting to continue to touch for as long as Quentin would let him. “Quentin. Q. Would you like to go on a date with me?”

His heart jumps at the grin that unfolds as Quentin gives his reply of, “Yeah. Yes. I’d really like that.”

Eliot can’t help his answering grin, dopey and intoxicated with _QuentinQuentinQuentin_. God, let him have this for a while before he starts fucking up (he ignores the image of Margo “I will kick your ass” Hanson staring him down disapprovingly at the thought). He tilts Quentin’s face up for another kiss, slow and gentle before it starts heating up, rolling so he was half on top.

“Gonna suck you off,” he purrs into Quentin’s ear, eliciting a full-body shiver.

“ _Jesus_ , yes please.” Quentin whimpers, hips bucking.

Eliot grins, trailing kisses down Quentin’s chest. He bites at the skin at his hip bone before dragging his lips across to his cock, already leaking from just his kisses alone. Eliot meets Quentin’s eyes as he slowly takes him into his mouth, eyes bright as he watches Quentin gasp; a flush creeps across his chest and up his face, his hands curl into fists in the sheets. But he’s watching Eliot in return, eyes dark with heat and arousal.

Eliot spends some time teasing him (Quentin is beautiful when he’s desperate, Eliot couldn’t help himself) before he starts sucking in earnest, hollowing out his cheeks and taking Quentin right into his throat. He can feel his own cock hardening with the pleasure of giving Quentin pleasure, but he ignores it in favour of focusing on Quentin. He knows he is close when Quentin’s whines go a little more high-pitched, and he moves a hand to Eliot’s hair, tugging lightly. Eliot smirks around the cock in his mouth and takes Quentin right into his throat, making sure to relax.

“ _Fuck_ – Eliot – I’m gonna. _Jesus_ – I’m gonna come down your throat if you don’t pull off _right the fuck now_ ,” Quentin pants, quivering with the effort of holding back.

Eliot raises a brow as if to say _what do you think I want you to do?_ before he hums, the vibrations finally sending Quentin over the edge. Eliot takes it in stride, swallowing as much as he could without choking. He licks his hand before touching his own cock, jerking off to the reality of Quentin, sweaty and blissed out in his bed, body a flushed red and legs twitching from his orgasm, with his hair all mussed up from tossing and turning his head. It didn’t take long for Eliot to reach his release too, closing his eyes as he rides out the waves of pleasure sending shocks throughout his figure, spilling into his own hand (a few drops land on Quentin’s thighs, and _God_ , if he hadn’t just came, he certainly would have then).

Once he has his own mind back from the whiteness of pleasure, Eliot grabs tissues to give them both a brief wipe, throwing the used tissues into the bin, before flopping on his back beside Quentin who immediately turns to him, pressing forward for a kiss.

“Fucking hell, El. That was… You were amazing.”

Eliot smiles as he suppresses a blush. It had been a long time since anyone had shown him proper appreciation, and not just appreciation for his skills in bed. “ _You’re_ amazing, Q – No really,” he says, when Quentin looks at him in scepticism. “You don’t shy away from what you want in bed, even when you are inexperienced. You’re not afraid to call people out on their bullshit.”

Quentin grins. “I mean… Any chance I get to have a go at someone, you better believe I’ll take it. Especially when they deserve it.”

Eliot laughs, a full, free laugh. _Jesus, Quentin had no idea of his beauty_. And Eliot was all too happy to be the one to show him until he believed it himself.

He couldn’t help but fall into Quentin’s eyes; the way the sun hit them, the way they would light up when he would talk about something he cared about (the Fillory books were a prominent feature, but Eliot didn’t care – he enjoyed listening to Quentin’s ramblings).

He spent the rest of the morning in bed with Quentin, rambling about nothing and everything all at once, both not wanting to leave the cocoon of Eliot’s room.

**Author's Note:**

> If I missed a tag, please let me know :)
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read, comment and leave kudos. You have all been much appreciated <3


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